


Untitled

by resonae



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Limbo, M/M, Mentions of torture and rape, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonae/pseuds/resonae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are hints that this world isn't real, but Arthur will just indulge himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He opened his eyes to a gentle warmth on his stomach. His husband looked sheepish as his eyes opened. “Sorry.” He said. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but…” Arthur smiled sleepily, and the other’s sheepish smile grew warm. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Arthur sat up slowly, mostly with the help of his husband. “Heavy.”

 

His husband chuckled. “You’re 8 months along, love. Of course you are. Are you hungry?”

 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Arthur sighed, and his husband laughed, helping him get off the bed. “French toast?” He asked, hopeful.

 

“Anything, love.” His husband kissed his temple softly as he helped Arthur into the bathroom. “Shout if you need anything.”

 

“Don’t burn the bread, William.” Arthur reminded, frowning lightly, and William laughed.

 

\--

 

Arthur couldn’t care less about the world outside their home. When they needed something or Arthur had cravings, William always left the house and returned with whatever items necessary. Once, their sink had leaked, and William had brought a plumber over, but Arthur had spent that afternoon on the other side of the house.

 

William had asked him why he was so afraid of the outside world, and Arthur had scoffed. He wasn’t afraid of it. He just didn’t care for it, that was all. Plus, it was filled with all sorts of stuff. What if he caught an illness? “What if he took his tools and started attacking my stomach?”

 

William had laughed and lifted him, 8-month-old fetus and all. “Love, our plumber is not going to attack you or our baby. Plus, do you really have so little faith in me?”

 

And Arthur had laughed as William spun him through their living room, because nothing could make him happier.

 

\--

 

Arthur went into labor violently. He’d ignored the back pains and stomach cramping for a while, thinking they were Braxton-Hicks contractions. And then his water broke while he was cooking. William had panicked and had responded by turning off the stoves, and when the first contraction hit after that, it shook Arthur so hard he passed out.

 

He woke up later on his back, William clutching his hand. “Can you get up, love?” William said, biting the inside of his lips. “I’ve prepared everything.” He shifted his gaze to the large blow-up pool in the middle of the living room.

 

Arthur started to nod, but a wave of pain hit him and he squeezed William’s hand, crying out in pain. William held him, kissing his temple and muttering coaxing words to his ear. Once it passed, Arthur stood shakily and let William undress him quickly. He slid into the warm water, and in moment William had entered behind him, holding him tightly. William was timing the contractions, Arthur knew, but in this moment he couldn’t think of anything.

 

“All right, love.” William whispered, sliding out from behind him. He gently spread Arthur’s legs and winced at the tinge of blood that rose to the surface. He entwined their fingers together. “When the next contraction comes, you’re going to have to push, love.”

 

\--

 

Arthur didn’t remember much of the birthing, except that he had been in incredible pain. He woke up throbbing and aching everywhere. “Hey.” William said, stroking his hair. “Hey, look, it’s our baby. Our little son.” Arthur looked. The baby was asleep, and William had dressed him in tiny blue clothes.

 

Arthur reached out, hands shaking with the effort, and touched a tiny hand. “Our baby.” He repeated, his voice shaking. The tiny hand unflexed from its fist and curled around his finger. “Oh, god, William, our son.”

 

William kissed his temple and held Arthur tight, cradling their son between them. “Our son. I’ve thought up a name, while you were sleeping. It’s not entirely British, so I thought it’d be all right.” Arthur nodded, his eyes fixated on the tiny sleeping infant. “How’s Ian?”

 

“Ian.” Arthur repeated. “How did you know I like that name?”

 

“Love, I make it my business to know everything about you.”

 

\--

 

Ian was the most well-behaved baby Arthur had ever known. Not that he knew any other babies, but he’d heard stories. Ian never cried at night. He only started crying in the morning, and Arthur used the sobbing as an alarm clock of sorts to get him out of bed.

 

Breastfeeding had been the more bizarre experience Arthur had gone through, but now he yawned as he reached for his baby and held it to his chest, undoing the buttons on his shirt.

 

William took care of all the diapers, mostly because Arthur was still too weak to do much out of bed. William worried. A week had passed since the birth, and Arthur got paler and weaker each day. “I’ll be okay.” Arthur said, once he realized William had woken up and was looking worriedly at him. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

 

\--

 

Arthur started vomiting a week after that. He’d gotten worse and could barely get out of bed. “What’s wrong with me?” He whispered, curled up against William on the bathroom floor. William only held him tight and pressed a kiss to his temple.

 

William forbade Arthur from breastfeeding until he got better. He was heating up formula in the kitchen – Arthur could see him from the bed. Where had William even gotten the formula? But before he could wonder, William was already walking in, Ian in one arm and formula bottle in the other.

 

\--

 

After two days, Arthur stopped vomiting and he was able to keep down solid food, so he went back to nursing Ian. Ian latched onto him as if there hadn’t been any change, and Arthur sighed in relief. He’d read stories where infants that had been weaned never went back to nursing from their mother.

 

Three days after that, Arthur’s body stopped making milk. It wasn’t possible, he sobbed, and William clutched his hand as he vomited again. “Love, you aren’t well.” William whispered, sounding brokenly worried. “We should start weaning Ian off.”

 

“It’s only been three weeks. Not even.” He sobbed.

 

“I know, love, but you can’t go on like this.” William carried him to the bed, and Arthur turned to see Ian, sleeping soundly in his crib. “You just – you just focus on getting better.”

 

\--

 

Arthur woke up in the middle of the night with a raging fever. William was running frantically around the house, pressing cool towels to his head and holding a bucket for him as he vomited. “My totem.” Arthur whimpered, delirious with fever.

 

“Your what?” William frowned.

 

“M-my die.”

 

“Love, you’re sprouting nonsense.” William whispered, looking horrified. “The fever must be getting to your head.”

 

Arthur shivered. “But… my die. Your poker chip.”

 

William pressed a hand to his eyes. “Love, you’re sick. The fever must be higher than I thought. Go to sleep, love. Go to sleep.” Right. Arthur closed his eyes obediently. Right, he was hallucinating.

 

\--

 

Arthur was jolted from sleep three hours later, breathing hard. He twisted in William’s grasp to vomit violently into the bin, and William jerked awake. “Love.” William sounded lost, desperate. “Love, what’s wrong?”

 

Arthur shook. He’d dreamt. Men were torturing him, pouring water over a wet rag over his face. Sending currents of electricity through his body. Breaking bones. Raping him. He clutched at William, crying brokenly until he had to vomit again. William stroked his back.

 

Ian stayed silent in his crib on the side.

 

\--

 

“I’m so tired.” Arthur whispered, barely able to keep his eyes open. William was stroking his face. “If I sleep, will you be there when I wake up?”

 

William kissed his temple. “Yeah.” He whispered. “I’ll be there.”

 

“How about Ian?”

 

William hesitated. “No.” He finally said. “I don’t… I’m sorry, Arthur.” He whispered. “I don’t think Ian will be there when you wake up.” The news didn’t surprise Arthur. It made him want to vomit again, but he was too tired to even do that.

 

“But you’ll be there.” Arthur managed.

 

“Yes.” William kissed his temple. “I’ll be there. Go to sleep, Arthur. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mm. Notes of what I intended to get through. I didn't want to put it in notes because it sort of got too long.

  1. Eames' first name is William. Arthur doesn't call him that in real life.
  2. Eames calls Arthur darling, not love.
  3. Arthur's reluctance to go outside and see that the world is actually empty save himself and Eames is his subconscious denying reality. There is no plumber. It's limbo. If it's broken, Arthur can fix it with his subconscious.
  4. Arthur doesn't remember the birth because it doesn't actually happen. His subconscious can deal with pregnancy and a baby, but not the birthing process because men don't actually have a womb or a cervix.
  5. Eames knows Arthur likes the name Ian because he's not real, he's a figment of Arthur's subconscious.
  6. The reason Ian doesn't cry at night is because when Arthur is asleep in limbo, nothing else actually exists. It's not that Arthur wakes to Ian's crying - Ian cries because he starts existing the moment Arthur wakes up.
  7. Arthur looks for his totem and it's not there. He mentions William's totem is the poker chip, and this is pretty much the only hint you get that William is Eames.
  8. My premise was that Arthur fell into limbo after being tortured/raped/whatevered by projections in a job gone wrong. As he's dying (aka his subconscious is trying to get him to wake up into reality), he starts dreaming of what really happened.
  9. Ian is silent and starts being sparsely mentioned because by here Arthur's subconscious is too weak to create projections other than Eames.
  10. At the end, Arthur subconsciously realizes that he's in limbo - which is why William tells him Ian won't be there when Arthur wakes up into reality, but William will be, because he's Eames.



**Author's Note:**

> Read Ch. 2 for things I tried to incorporate. >


End file.
